


my heart was bulletproof til you took off the jacket

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cait Sith makes Vincent charge his PHS?, Developing Relationship, M/M, Somewhat mushy, Vincent fights monsters for Reeve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: Vincent fights a basilisk, a dragon, his past, and his developing relationship with Reeve Tuesti. He ends up giving in to Reeve.





	my heart was bulletproof til you took off the jacket

**Author's Note:**

> When you write fic, sometimes it surprises you where it goes?

The frequency on the radio faded with static, Vincent’s connection going dead. It was too far underground to use his PHS and now that the radio went dead, he was going into this cave blind. That was fine. He’d killed blindfolded before. The sound of hearts beating, of breathing, sounded deafening in his ears. Now that he was some mockery of living beyond death, his senses were even more honed. He heard the drip of water in the distance and followed it down. He was here because he was bored, not because Reeve had asked him to be there. At least, that’s what he told himself. He was taking a surprising number of missions on for the WRO. All of them ended in him covered in monster guts. Vincent didn’t want to examine his choices, why he thought he needed to be near Reeve.

As he approached the power source, something let loose a piercing wail. It sounded sad somehow, as if it was wounded. Well, that explained why it was attacking the power source; it felt threatened.

In another life, Vincent might heal it, call it a day, but he was a) horrible at using cure materia and b) restless to kill. Something inside him hungered for blood, wanted destruction. Chaos had been slumbering as of late, so it might have been Galian. When Vincent turned inward, images of jaws gnashing through flesh, red blood looked almost black, filled his mind. He was desperate for a hunt. Here, miles below the surface, he might allow the change in form, but then . . . with the power source so close by, and no way to control Galian, it was probably not a good idea. He discounted it almost immediately. Inside, Galian howled and Vincent shook his head as if to dispel the beast’s sadness.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Vincent crept along the rock wall and slipped into the den of the creature. It was a lizard, but also a large snake. A very large snake. A basilisk. There, along its side, a gash bled sluggishly. It had been wounded likely hours ago judging by the look of it.

Its stare was like to turn him to stone, so Vincent quickly pulled his headband down and covered his eyes. He was virtually indestructible, but he’d never been turned to stone before and he didn’t want to spend an eternity trapped. He’d had enough of that. He’d have to rely on his other senses after all, and he had to act quickly before the thing sensed him there. Already, as soon as Vincent moved to pull the red cloth over his eyes, the basilisk sniffed at the air, its hot breath rolling over Vincent from his perch against the wall. It smelled foul. Drawing Cerberus fluidly, he felt along the wall and went in the direction of the thing’s breathing.

As soon as the basilisk saw him, it cried into the long cavern. The cry cut short like a discordant piano as Vincent shot it in quick succession several times, aiming at the thrum of its life beating beneath its mighty chest. It let out a piercing death rattle, charging forward with a startling speed. Still, Vincent had time to jam Cerberus back into its holster and flip out of the way. With the danger to him averted, he pulled the red cloth up from over his eyes and looked at the monster. Now that it was dead, he could see it was a she, and she had been protecting a nest of eggs. Vincent walked over to them, took a deep breath, unholstered Cerberus with a flourish, and loosed a rain of bullets into each egg.

The glow from the power source thrummed through the ground. A generator powered by water. He checked over it. He was no engineer, but he snapped a few pictures with his PHS, the phone cradled in his talons as he poked at the screen like an offended grandfather who hated technology.

Given his past, he renounced almost all technology, only adhering to some of it because it was expected of him, and because it was easier to use the offending PHS rather than to hear the various members of the former AVALANCHE yell at him. Still, on several occasions he’d completely forgotten to charge the damned thing and Reeve always sent Cait Sith to bother him. He’d done it enough times to jostle Vincent into making it a habit to charge the thing. Cait Sith made him uneasy.

The radio came to life suddenly. Its static echoed through the cavern, then he heard Reeve’s voice.

“Vincent, Vincent, are you there?”

“Yeah,” Vincent said, pulling the radio from the straps on his thigh to hold it up to his mouth.

“Excellent. What have you discovered?”

“Found your monster,” Vincent drawled. “It’s dead. It was wounded. I finished the job. But now I have to find out what hurt it.” He looked around. The cavern around the generator was lit by lamps, but Vincent didn’t need light. 

“I’m getting some disturbing readings,” Reeve said. “Get out of there soon.”

“Are you worried about me, Commissioner?” Vincent smirked.

“Don’t dawdle.”

He put the radio away, rolling his eyes. Reeve was too young to be the father figure of the group, and yet he was, making sure everyone was accounted for and doing all right. He came to Vincent for odd jobs presumably because Vincent had no attachments. At least, that’s what he thought. He didn’t examine it too closely, didn’t think Reeve wanted him there. It was just a matter of convenience. Vincent was convenient—a man who had renounced humanity for the most part, who was more like the monsters he fought against.

Vincent searched the area. A monster bigger than the basilisk had to be around judging by that gash it had in its side. Deeper into the cavern he went, eyes sweeping the area cautiously, ready to draw his gun at any noise.

He moved along the wall until he found another large open cavern. Inside, a large black dragon was slumbering, its tail wrapped around itself, barbs at its tip. As Vincent crept closer it lifted its head. One eye had been gouged out, an old wound. The remaining eye, red and piercing, was fixed on Vincent, its tail whipping around as it rose slowly, warily. Was this the reading that concerned Reeve? It must have been. The dragon was massive, but Vincent had killed bigger creatures. With his hand trained over his holster, Vincent moved closer. The dragon roared, its massive jaws snapping. Vincent pulled Cerberus from its holster and shot once, twice, three times. The dragon wailed and lumbered forward. The bullets, designed as they were, ripped through the tough scales, but it was not dead. It lumbered forward and swiped at Vincent with its tail, fire billowing from its great maw. It blasted Vincent with heat, but Vincent simply jumped up, scaled along the wall, and lunged onto the dragon’s back. From here, he had a clear shot at the thing’s head. It twisted, trying to shake Vincent off, but he held on, talons clawing between scales to its delicate flesh beneath. The dragon surged into the wall, attempting to ram Vincent against the rock wall. Vincent twisted so he hung off the thing’s side and leveled Cerberus at its head. He unloaded several more shots straight into the thing’s skull as he swung around and off again, landing several yards away. The dragon crashed into the floor of the cavern, thrashing in pain as the bullets tore into its brain. It died there, tail flying up and then crashing down before it went still.

Vincent allowed himself a heavy breath, studied the dragon and the surrounding area, then slid the radio off his thigh.

“Your pest problem is taken care of, Reeve,” Vincent said simply. “The generator looks like it’s in working order. Took some pictures. I’m coming back now.”

“Excellent. We’ll send a group to inspect it later. Well done, Vincent,” Reeve praised. “Get out of there.”

“Planning on it,” Vincent said, putting the radio away.

Getting back was a matter of navigating the winding passages and then taking the pulley-operated car up and back to the earth above.

Reeve was waiting for Vincent above ground. He clapped his hand over Vincent’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Vincent,” the dark-haired man smiled, but something was off about it. He seemed tired. The usual rabble of WRO members were not present. It was just Reeve. Vincent raised a black brow. “Will you join me tonight?”

This had become a pattern. Reeve pretended he needed Vincent to protect him, Vincent gave in, stood vigil until Reeve dragged him toward his bed. He laid beside him, listening to his heart beat in the quiet night.

Still, Vincent nodded. Why he went with the pretense, he didn’t know. He pretended it was boredom.

It had been many years since he laid beside someone. Even when he laid beside Lucrecia, he’d been forced to let her fall asleep and leave in the middle of the night, secretive. This was secretive too, and perhaps that was why he did it.

He’d done everything in secret, and perhaps that was all a part of his sin. Veld had sent him away from Midgar because they had been a secret, Lucrecia had spurned him out of some misguided desire to cover up her mistakes, had made him what he was to try and keep him alive. Whatever he was, it wasn’t alive. He couldn’t blame her, even after all these years. He couldn’t blame Veld either, though it hurt. It hurt so much his head throbbed when he thought of either of them.

But with Reeve it was different, perhaps. Different, but much the same.

So he went with him, pretended to be his silent sentinel until the man woke out of restless sleep, padding toward him on bare feet.

He didn’t have to say anything. Vincent stood and moved toward to the bed, waited for Reeve to climb in, and got on the bed himself fully dressed.

“Shoes off,” Reeve grumbled. Vincent conceded, sabatons removed. But nothing else. He’d never once disrobed with Reeve. They’d never done anything but press their lips together in the night. Reeve was always the one to initiate. Vincent was always the one to stop, tell Reeve to fall asleep. Reeve never pressed the issue.

Tonight it felt different. Reeve turned toward Vincent and gazed up into his face.

“Go to sleep,” Vincent murmured. But Reeve shook his head and traced Vincent’s jaw slowly.

“I don’t want to sleep. I can’t. What are we doing, Vincent?”

“I’m fighting your battles,” Vincent said, looking away.

“You know what I mean,” Reeve whispered, turning Vincent’s head back toward his.

“You can’t want me,” Vincent sighed.

“No one tells me what to do or feel,” Reeve said with a hint of defiance.

“That’s true. But why me?”

“Haven’t thought that far,” Reeve said. At least it was honest. And perhaps it was an echo from his past. Perhaps everything had come full circle. Perhaps that was what terrified him. “You fight it, but you want it just as much as I do. The companionship. The closeness.”

“I promised myself I would never get close to anyone again,” Vincent said seriously.

“Too bad, Valentine,” Reeve said just as seriously. And then his lips pressed against Vincent’s jaw. Vincent moved his head and slotted his lips against Reeve’s. When their lips parted, Vincent squinted at Reeve.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

And it was true. Though he had never stayed in bed until the morning with Reeve, he stayed this time and every time after that. Little by little, Reeve would chip at the stone in time he had been, was no more. The bulletproof part of his heart was no more, because Reeve had curled his hand around it, let it beat when it had been dormant so long.


End file.
